


Christmas Memories

by Small_Hobbit



Series: Twelve Further Days of Christmas [2]
Category: Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: Christmas, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-28
Updated: 2015-12-28
Packaged: 2018-05-09 23:45:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5560495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Small_Hobbit/pseuds/Small_Hobbit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Holmes recalls his childhood memories of Christmas</p>
            </blockquote>





	Christmas Memories

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Laurose8.

It was unusual for Holmes to speak about his family home or mention anything about his childhood. It did not appear to have been particularly unhappy or to have had any extraordinary consequences, so I presumed he did not speak of it for there was nothing to say. I had gathered from listening to Holmes and Mycroft conversing over the years there had been additional siblings who had died in infancy, but my Holmes, being the younger, had no memory of them. And since it was rare for a family not to have suffered in such fashion there would be no cause for their mention.

It was therefore of interest to me, too, when Arthur, Seth’s younger grandson had said, “What was Christmas like when you were a child, Mr Holmes, if you would like to tell us?”

We had enjoyed a magnificent Christmas dinner, cooked by Seth’s daughter, Ellen, and were sitting in the parlour, too replete to contemplate moving any further. Ellen and Seth had been reminiscing about Christmases when Ellen had been small and Seth had been regaling us with tales of Christmases from his youth. It appeared, from what he told us, escapades, such as trying to skate across the frozen duck pond only to fall in at the centre, were repeated by every generation in the village.

I had told them a little about the Christmases I had spent with my Mary in London. These were not times I often recalled, but the happy family atmosphere made it easy for me to remember with gratitude the good times we had shared, and I was grateful for the opportunity.

William and Arthur were fascinated by the differences between a city Christmas and Christmas in the country, which is what led Arthur to ask Holmes about his own Christmases.

“My brother and I were the only two children present in the household,” Holmes began. “There were a few aunts and elderly cousins who stayed for the festivities, but none of these had families of their own. And unlike you two, my brother and I are not close in age, so we did not play much together.

“I can remember we had a tree in the hall. My mother was keen to emulate the Queen as much as possible and therefore we would have a beautifully decorated tree. It was always with great excitement my nanny would take me to see the tree as soon as it was ready. Mycroft was even allowed to light some of the candles, but no-one would let me do so.”

Holmes sighed dramatically at this point and I chuckled. I was not surprised nanny did not let a six year old Sherlock anywhere near a lighted candle.

“The tree was festooned with sweets, which would be strictly rationed, as well as decorations my mother had made. There were presents too, for at that time only small gifts were given which could be hung in the tree. Mycroft used to taunt me by pointing out the gifts which were in the upper part of the tree where I could not reach them. He would choose a particularly promising gift, which he would remove from the tree and hold above my head, before carefully replacing it.”

“It sounds as if older brothers haven’t changed over the years.” Arthur glared at William, who smirked back.

“I know I was permitted to be present for Christmas dinner and I believe we generally had goose, but the meal itself was tedious and I have the distinct impression nanny would take me back to the nursery before it was finished. My other main remembrance is of standing around the piano whilst one of the aunts played and we sang carols. Each year I would learn a piece of seasonal music on my violin which I would be encouraged to play to the gathered group during a pause in the carol singing. I can remember the applause and being proud of myself for having mastered the piece.”

Holmes stopped and William thanked him for sharing his memories. Then he said, “I believe you still play, Mr Holmes.”

“For my own amusement, only,” he replied. “And Watson is gracious enough to say he enjoys my playing.”

“Would you care to share it with us?” William added and produced the violin from its hiding place. It hadn’t been easy, but I had smuggled the violin out of the cottage the previous day and William had collected it from me.

I knew Holmes was generally reluctant to play before an audience, but I also knew he would be happy to entertain our hosts to thank them for inviting us to celebrate with them. Holmes had quickly recovered from his surprise, and, having given me a look which said ‘so that’s what you were doing yesterday afternoon’, he took up his violin, tuned it and began playing a spirited version of “Hark the Herald Angels Sing”. We joined in with gusto.

 


End file.
